


Perilous Harbor

by veryverynotgood



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Pirate Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Princess Emma Swan, Swords
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 21:57:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17774942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veryverynotgood/pseuds/veryverynotgood
Summary: Emma Swan is heir apparent to her parents' kingdom in the Enchanted Forest, and a powerful wielder of light magic. This makes her the most wanted woman in the realm, not only for marriage, but for leverage against the king and queen. While her parents have been able to keep her safe so far, an attack is launched on Princess Emma that leaves her no choice but to seek the protection of her worst enemy - Killian Jones, infamous captain of the Jolly Roger and his pirate crew.Rated M for language and mentions of assault





	1. Run

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! So I've created this multichapter fic based off of a prompt from a post I found by one-lonely-whumperfly:
> 
> “The hero shows up at the villain’s doorstep one night. They’re shivering, bleeding, scared. There’s also a slightly dazed look in their eyes – they were drugged. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly as they’re close to passing out, they mumble “…didn’t know where else to go…” then collapse into the villain’s arms.”
> 
> This is my first fic ever so I hope it brings at least one person some joy and I'm definitely going to try to see it through to the end! Enjoy!

It has never rained this hard before in her life. Slipping over the cobblestone streets of the lower town, Emma cursed under her breath. Her thoughts grew more muddled by the second, making it increasingly difficult to run. 

But that was their plan all along.

The rain blinded her, making it impossible to see. She would be just as well off sprinting with her eyes closed, but she couldn’t afford to slow down. She needed to keep going.

She was soaked to the bone, her once glittering royal blue silk gown now waterlogged and muddy, seams ripped and fabric torn in various places. Oh, how her lady’s maid would balk at her appearance. That is, if she was still alive. Everything happened so quickly, she doesn’t even know _what_ happened. And her parents –

No. She couldn’t think about that. Not right now. It’s her duty as their sole heir to secure the line of succession. She needed to find somewhere safe and stay alive, and there’s only one place, one person who can ensure that happens. It’s certainly not ideal, but it’ll have to do. For the kingdom.

“This way! Get the princess, and take her alive!”

Emma heard the shouts behind her, mind reeling with desperation to think of a way out. She was sure the voices belonged to the men that attacked the palace, to the men that tried to take her. To…ruin her. She suppressed a shudder at the memory of their groping hands and crude remarks. She had to run faster to get to the port before they could find her again. But her body felt increasingly heavy, numb with shock and exhaustion and the evening’s sparkling wine. Just the wine, she told herself, nothing more. But deep down, she knew that was a lie.

She took a sharp left, cutting down a merchant street that sold the most intricate fish hooks in the Enchanted Forest. She knew this street lead directly to the port, though it wasn’t the main avenue. She hoped the brigands wouldn’t think to come this way. Her father used to bring her here when she was little, when he taught her how to fish. She'd picked a hook with a delicate blue feather attached to a sparkling silver spinner, simply because she liked the way it gleamed in the light. As she sprinted hazardously down the alley, she couldn’t help but think that now those once beautiful hooks looked menacing as lightning streaked across the sky, reflecting in the shop windows.

She saw the ocean before she reached the end of the street. She knew she must push away the fog slowly creeping into her mind for a chance to survive. With the dock mere feet away, her determination was fierce, though resolve hardly cures poison, she thought bitterly. It was impossible to see straight anymore. Even without the rain blowing directly into her eyes, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stand, let alone run, for much longer. She stumbled onto the street, slipping through a puddle.

It was surreal, Emma thought, that she could hear the merriment of the public houses along the wharf. The shouts of pirates losing gold on games of chance, the laughs of friends reuniting over pints of ale. They sounded happy, as if they didn’t know what occurred at the palace, as if they didn’t care what happened to her. She envied their oblivion, she realized, jealousy tainting the sounds of their carelessness, their insufferable joy. What she would give to be back at the palace, laughing and dancing in the safety of the grand ballroom. Instead she was running in fear of her life, towards a man who was the opposite of her definition of joyful company.

Too late she felt the slide of her silk slippers against wooden planks, and her world tilted. Reality hit as she slammed her face against the dock. Groaning, she tried to push herself up off the ground. The world swirled around her, a blur of stars and dark water, but she had to get up, she had to make it. For her kingdom. For her parents.

As she got back to her feet, her eyes locked onto an immaculate ship at the end of the dock. With her blurry vision, the dark blue boards blended in with the water, but the yellow paint framing the graceful curves of the ship were her anchor. She put one foot in front of the other and moved toward that splash of color. Her head was spinning and she could barely kept her eyes open, but she was moving. That’s what mattered.

She hadn’t heard shouting since she cut down the fisherman’s alley, so her plan must have worked. At least _that_ worked out for her. The win was short-lived, however, when she arrived at the ship and realized she now had to board.

Emma balked at the gangway. Under normal circumstances, this was the least of her worries as she and her father boarded a new naval ship for inspections. But now…now she could barely walk, her consciousness starting to slip away like smoke through her fingers. A three-foot wide walkway was all that separated her from the cold, churning waters below. She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. She knew she was losing her lead on her pursuers, and she was _not_ willing to let them finish what they started.

Her first step onto the walkway was shaky. She could distantly hear the plank rattling against the deck of the ship, but she was so focused on not falling into the dark abyss of water below to think about how utterly unstealthy she was being. Her arrival would be shocking enough without the element of surprise. She took two more steps before she wobbled, but she righted herself and quickly dashed to the end, catching the smooth railing before she tumbled onto the deck. Taking a deep breath, her extraordinarily heavy head rolled to the side. She wouldn’t be awake for much longer, and she needed to find out if anyone was on board, if _he_ was on board.

Her question was answered almost immediately, as she heard a pair of footsteps approaching from below deck, followed by the unmistakable ringing of a sword being drawn.

“What the bloody hell - ?” His words were cut short as he took in Emma’s appearance. She knew what she must look like - tattered clothing, soaked hair, and likely, from the throbbing along her hairline, a bloody face. He shouldn’t care what she looks like, because Killian Jones, captain of the infamous Jolly Roger, was her sworn enemy. But now he was her only hope.

Her vision started to darken around the edges, and she swayed as she tried to take a step forward. Killian sheathed his sword, but still looked at her, wide-eyed and wary, his usual swagger replaced by a genuine shock she had never seen from him before. She knew how strange this must look. She needed to give an explanation, but she realized as she opened her mouth that she didn’t have a good one to give.

“I…I didn’t know where else to go.” She barely whispered the words before unconsciousness swallowed her in a wave of ocean and starlight, and she collapsed into the arms of her nemesis.


	2. Abeyance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I told you I was writing, and I honestly didn't stop until I literally forced myself too oops. So this chapter is SUPER duper long, but I had a lot of story to tell. I really hope it isn’t boring, I tried to keep the action going. The next one (probably) won’t be a monster like this. Anywho, I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Also if you would like updates and teasers for what I'm writing during the week before I publish, follow my tumblr veryverynotgoodwrites! I try to post on there every day and give updates on my progress with the story. It's the best way to keep up with when I'm about to publish, ask questions, or tell me I did something really wrong.

One Month Earlier

 

“I am going to die here.”

Emma squinted down at the fabric samples on the table. She had been helping her lady’s maid Sofia select materials to order a new ball gown for hours now, and her weary eyes could hardly see. Earlier, there were swatches of every shade of blue imaginable, but now only two sat before her. Forty minutes had passed since they started this utterly pointless debate on whether sapphire or royal blue was a better symbol to the people and their allies. For _some_ reason it made a difference, so here she sat, wishing she were anywhere but here.

“Come now, your highness,” Sofia scolded, then sighed. She walked around the table to stand closer, placing her hand gently on Emma’s shoulder. “It’s not such a hard decision! If we can’t agree, then just pick the one you like best. I’m sure you’ll attract more than one set of eyes in either.”

Emma snorted at the thought. Since she turned eighteen, all sorts of men from various kingdoms had clamored to her mother’s castle in the hopes of securing an alliance through marriage. Princes, dukes, captains, commanders – at the end of the day, they were all the same. Love was a second thought for everyone except for her. For all the extraordinary care that potential suitors took to research the culture, history, and ways of her people, they seemed to ignore the single most important detail to their duties: her. Her parents married for love, and she would do the same, even if it meant not marrying until she was ninety.

“Well, I suppose the royal blue is the most appropriate - and ironic - choice, let’s go with that. Is there anything left that I must decide before the kingdom crumbles?” Emma laughed, but in the back of her mind she worried that she would have to sit through three more hours of picking between two identical hairpins.

Sofia shook her head, chin-length red curls bouncing around her full face, smiling as her brown eyes sparkle with amusement. “Since you obviously have somewhere more important to be, I suppose we are finished. _For now_.”

 “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Emma said breathlessly over her shoulder as she launched herself out of her chair and toward the door. The truth was, she didn’t really have anywhere to be. She just wanted to be anywhere but here.

 She walked until she found herself in the palace gardens. She always found this to be her favorite place in the entire kingdom. It was beautiful, especially in the spring when thousands of flowers bloom for her to study and admire. But she especially loved it because it was her safe haven – safe from courtiers and suitors and crowds full of clingy admirers. In fact, it was the only place she was ever allowed to go outside of her family’s personal wing in the palace without an extensive guard.

Emma plopped down onto a gray stone bench, looking out toward the ocean’s horizon. Soon, ships from all over the realm would be arriving for a ball in her honor. It’s not that she wasn’t fond of balls. On the contrary, she was fond of any excuse to drink and eat and laugh with her friends and family - but this one was different.

This ball was to be held for her birthday - her twenty-second, to be exact. Normally a party wouldn’t be such a bad thing, except the fact that there were…expectations surrounding this one.

Since she came of age four years ago, she hadn’t much of an interest in romance. There always seemed to be something more interesting to think about, to do, or to see. While her parents support her in everything she does, they tended to push when love is involved. It’s no surprise that they wanted their daughter to have the love they share for herself, but she knew deep in her heart she would never find that here in the palace. Here, men were either too proud or too stuffy for her taste, not to mention they were all out for her throne. Or worse, her powers.

Of course, her parents would never force her into marriage. She knew that, but they were getting impatient with her lack of interest in finding her “true love,” if such a thing existed for her. In fact, most people spent their entire lives without finding theirs. The odds weren’t in her favor.

Her parents would tell her that she didn’t need to worry, that true love would find her when she wasn’t looking for it, or that it may hit her over the head with a rock. But Emma wasn’t entirely convinced that it was in the cards for her at all.

 

* * *

      

“Guard your left, Emma!” David’s voice rang out above the dull thuds of wooden practice swords colliding. Emma adjusted her posture to parry a blow to her left, but not before it landed. Not a hard hit - her father’s knights were far too scared of hurting her - but it _was_ a blow to her ego from which she was sure to never fully recover. At least, until she won again.

It had been three weeks since Emma ordered her gown, and she had her final fitting this morning. Though she was annoyed by, well, everything during the process, she had to admit that it turned out to be the most spectacular garment she had ever seen. She would never tell Sofia that to her face, of course. Her handmaid would only make a habit of detaining Emma for hours, and she would rather swim through the frigid, shark infested ocean to Arendelle and back.

Emma huffed and whirled to meet her father’s amused stare, blonde braid swishing over her shoulder. “Well maybe I’d be more careful if you stepped in here with a real weapon, _Prince Charming_.”

David chuckled, dismissing her previous partner with a nod. His dark blonde hair was freshly trimmed, surely at her mother’s behest after his recent jokes of growing his shoulder-length shepherd’s hair back. While her mother would never outright say what a truly _terrible_ idea that was, she did imply that she would be heartbroken for his hair to take away from his bright baby blue eyes, so he never followed through with his nostalgic plan.

“I am the king, _Princess._ ” He walked over and picks up two worn steel swords, both nicely balanced, but plain and clearly meant for practice, unlike the ornamental swords he had taken to wearing these days. “I don’t take orders, unless they’re from your mother. But I can’t deny a challenge from a formidable opponent.”

He tossed Emma the lighter sword and she effortlessly caught it by the handle. It took her months to perfect that maneuver, much to her father’s amusement. But the day she managed it three times in a row without sending it skittering across the floor, he rewarded her with a sleek red-leather scabbard, detailed with delicate gold accents. The matching sword, he told her, comes with her first victory in the sparring ring. She won the blade in less than a month.

“Then I’d hate to keep you waiting,” Emma smirked, lazily bringing her sword up to a ready position. This, she knew, would drive David insane. Good form is important, he taught her, and laziness is posture’s worst enemy. But she learned early on that sometimes, deliberately ignoring these lessons made him bristle with annoyance. This was a weakness she often exploited to beat him when they were sparring. That was another thing he taught her – sometimes, it doesn’t matter _how_ you win, as long as you do.

David didn’t take the bait. He swung with both hands, swords connecting with a great clang. The force of the strike nearly knocked her onto her knees, but she instead used his momentum to her advantage to parry the blow and push his blade into the ground. She lifted her sword to hit back, but he pulled his sword out of the dirt with a hard upward thrust, roaring with the effort. She jumped back, keeping her sword clear of his own blade. Another hard hit with his considerable strength and she would lose before she even got a shot on offense. She stepped to the edge of the dirt ring, her camel-brown boots just inside the line, making sure she was far enough away that David can’t reach her. She has to reset their positions and use her head or there’s no hope of winning.

The king noticed Emma’s retreat and inched toward her, step by step. “Remember what we discussed, an evasion is only as good as the attack that follows,” he reminded, his steps calm and sure. Always a gentleman, he would let her have the next attack. Sparring between them had always been a part of her education, and her safety relied on it. While lately she had won more fights than not, she wasn’t naïve enough to think that her ability was as expert as some of the people that wanted her captured or dead. Her parents had relaxed her guard lately, since the threat on her life had diminished after the pirates returned her, but she still couldn’t help but feel like she had to get better, like she was going to need that skill again.

Emma lunged forward, lifting the sword over her head and bringing it down with as much strength as she could muster. She was strong, but not strong enough to knock the sword from of her father’s hand. He quickly recovered, striking fast, but missing in his frenzy. Emma saw an opportunity, and purposely neglected her left side when she raised her sword to David. In his haste to capitalize on her weakness, he missed the trap, lunging for her left hip with the flat of his sword. Emma instead stepped forward, catching his wrist with her left hand and bringing the pommel of her sword to his hand, forcing him to drop his blade. She quickly stumbled back, breathing heavily, the steel of her sword glinting in the sunlight as she held it to her father’s chest.

“I guess we shouldn’t worry so much about your left side, then,” David said with a laugh. Emma smiled, lowering her sword as she embraced him. “I’m so proud of you.”

“And so am I.” A voice floated down from the path at the edge of the practice field, and she turned to see her mother walking toward them. Her long, dark hair was loose, gently fluttering with the breeze, and she wore her bow and quiver over her shoulder. Looking at her in her brown pants, old boots, and white tailored jacket, it was hard to see her as the queen. The vision before her was that of Snow White, the legendary outlaw and huntress from the days of Regina’s reign.

“Thanks, mom,” Emma sang, handing her practice sword off to a young apprentice with a smile.

“Though I do wish sometimes you would be as diligent with a bow as you are with a sword,” Snow bemoaned. She always wished that Emma would take up her weapon of choice, but Emma found early on that the stealth of a bow didn’t satisfy her as much as the brashness of swordplay, though she did admit it could be useful.

“Well, maybe I’ll practice tonight if it can get me out of this dinner,” Emma mumbled, plopping onto the grass and taking a long drink from her waterskin.

“Emma, I know it’s not easy, but other kingdoms just don’t understand how different marriage is here.” David was right, Emma begrudgingly admitted to herself. Other kingdoms didn’t know all of the details of her parents’ marriage. Few maintained relations with the kingdom during Regina’s reign, so their story wasn’t as widely known outside of their trusted circle of friends scattered throughout the realm.

“Besides, you don’t even have to marry anyone here. They’re mainly doing this as a formality. You know we would never ask something like that of you,” Snow said sympathetically, running a hand over Emma’s hair.

“I know you wouldn’t. I just…I don’t know. It’s hard to look at all of these people that have expectations of me that I will never meet,” Emma admitted. “It’s not like I could blame them, the last thing anyone heard about me was that I was some damsel in distress –”

“Who saved herself from pirates! That’s not exactly ‘damsel’ material,” David offered, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Yeah! Don’t be so hard on yourself. Plus, if anyone makes an unwelcome move, all you have to do is bring them down here and wallop them. They would be sure to keep some distance after that.” Snow laughed and brought her hand to Emma’s shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze.

Emma smiled. Throughout dinner and that night, even as she drifted off to sleep, she imagined the shocked expression the Duke of Some Place or Another would wear when they realized that she really wasn’t just some frilly princess.

She was a fighter.

 

* * *

 

_Emma struggled to control her breathing. Three days had passed since she was kidnapped from the woods just outside the palace walls. Her meals had been too infrequent to tell for sure, but based on the guards’ rotation, that must be about right._

_Her captors kept her deep in the belly of whatever ship she was on, locked in an iron cage. She imagined a brig would be dark and damp with rotting wood and flooded floors, but it appeared as though the crew took as much care here as they would above deck. In fact, the plain wooden walls and floors were so immaculately clean, they seemed to shine. For a pirate crew, they took extraordinary pride in the cleanliness of their vessel._

_She had to commend the crew – excellent housekeeping aside, they’ve done a wonderful job of not giving her any clue whatsoever of who was really behind her kidnapping, or even who the captain of this ship was._

_Panic and rage boiled up again, making her fingertips buzz with energy._ Control yourself, _she thought._ Don’t give away your greatest advantage. _She could almost hear her father telling her those words during their training sessions. A lot of good those were doing her now, locked in this brig. When she gets home, she will suggest lessons on lock-picking._

_A sharp click startled her from her thoughts. She whipped her head toward the door of the brig and saw two men she didn’t recognize approach. She knew they weren’t the usual guards, so they had to be escorts._

_When she was brought aboard the ship, the first guards searched her for weapons. All they found was a hunting dagger she carried with her when she rode alone through the forest. When they were done searching, they confiscated her clothes and replaced them with an ill-fitting homespun garment that had been mended so many times she was confident it was more random patches than original fabric. On someone thrice her size, it would have been a shirt, but on her it was little more than a knee-length dress. She stood up with as much dignity as she could muster, chin held high. At least they had let her keep her favorite riding boots._

_“The captain will be seeing you now,_ Your Highness _,” the larger man said, spitting her title like poison. He had ruddy cheeks and thinning dark brown hair, and looked like he enjoyed a good meal more than his fair share. He nodded to his companion, who stepped forward to unlock the door to her cell._

_The other man was strikingly handsome and appeared to be her age, if not a couple of years older. Though he was smaller around the middle than the other man, he was nearly a head taller and no less physically imposing. His dark red hair could almost be mistaken for brown in the darkness of the brig, but his freckle-framed blue eyes were so bright they could have matched the sea, had she been given a window to actually compare._

_They didn’t shackle her while they walked. She supposed she should be thankful, but then again, she was stuck on a ship in the middle of the sea. She would have to find a way to remedy that, but at least she wouldn’t have to deal with other inconveniences first._

_Stumbling to keep up with their pace, she was led up a series of ladders, through crew quarters, and down narrow hallways. The air was growing less stale every step they took away from the brig, and by the time she saw sunlight streaming through a hatch on deck, she was gulping down the fresh, salt-kissed air like she had never breathed before._

_Her excitement was interrupted when the larger of the two men beat on a plain wooden door at the end of corridor. She reached up and pulled the sleeve of her massive shirt back over her shoulder, but as soon as she let go, it fell back down. The larger man scoffed at her in distaste, but the younger one merely looked at her with eyes full of emotion that she could have sworn was pity._

_A voice finally responded to the knock after what felt like an eternity, and the men threw the door open, ushering her roughly inside. As her eyes landed on the captain, she had to consciously school her expression to keep from gaping. She didn’t know why she expected a waxed mustache, long, curly hair, and a bright red overcoat. The captain that stood before her couldn’t have been more different._

_In truth, he was the most beautiful man Emma had ever laid eyes on. His kohl-lined blue eyes pierced beneath suggestively arched brows, his neatly maintained stubble highlighting his strong jawline and growing smirk. Tufts of short, brown hair so dark it was nearly black flopped over his forehead, windblown and slightly damp from the gentle ocean spray above deck._

_He was leaning against a neat oak desk tucked in the corner of the room, one foot crossed over the other, and he was holding a glass of brown liquid that she could only assume was some sort of hard liquor. Something in his expression was playful, but dangerous.  She imagined the reason he took so long to answer the door was so that he could place himself in this position. The theatrics were almost laughable._

_“Ah! There’s our guest of honor!” He quickly downed the last of the liquid and put the glass on the desk with a thud. He pushed off the desk with his hips, one hand going to the sword at his hip._

_“I realize we haven’t been properly introduced,” he drawled. He gestured to her more unpleasant escort. “This is Sullivan, lovely fellow as I’m sure you noticed. And this is Johnny. A newer member of my crew, but proving himself useful. My name’s Killian Jones. But you may know me by a more colorful moniker – Captain Hook.”_

_Just then she noticed that the hand he extended to her wasn’t really a hand at all, but a silver hook peeking out from the sleeve of his flowing black shirt. He was dressed in leather pants, knee-high black boots, and a red vest. A silver chain with several various charms lay visible from the low neckline of his shirt. He looked exactly like the stories said._

_She should have pieced it together before. Everyone knew of Captain Hook, captain of the Jolly Roger. His notoriety had gained him the honor of becoming a scary story that sailors and overwhelmed parents told children in coastal towns of many kingdoms, including hers. If a child didn’t finish their chores, or if they disobeyed their parents, the stories said the infamous pirate captain would come and snatch them away with his shiny hook and take them out to sea, never to be seen again. The tales inspired fear in children to be sure, but she could attest that they had the same effect on adults. But she was Emma Swan, she would not cower, not even when faced with the living legend himself._

_“Pleasure,” she said coolly, letting her eyes linger as she moved them from his hook to his face, sizing him up. She didn’t accept his outstretched hook._

_“A lady of few words,” he replied, jerking his chin toward his crew in dismissal. She kept her eyes on Hook as she listened to Sullivan and Johnny walk to the door and close it behind them. The concern in his voice was feigned and sarcastic as he spoke again. “I assume you’re wondering why you’re here. You must be quite frightened, darling.”_

_“I’d prefer ‘Your Highness,’” she said, a corner of her mouth quirking up as she met his gaze. “Actually, I’ve been having a wonderful stay. The accommodations are lovely and the company is interesting. And I’m afraid you’ll find me less curious than you assume I am, I think it’s pretty obvious why I’m here.”_

_The smirk fell from his face as he studies her face. “Ah. Stubborn, aren’t we? That’s alright, I love a challenge.” He stepped toward her, his nose only inches from hers though he stood a head taller. “Then tell me,_ Your Highness, _why do you think you’re here?”_

_Her gaze was unfaltering as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her wrist grazed his chest and his eyes dropped to her bare shoulder where her shirt had fallen._

_“I think,” she said, drawing his eyes back up to her own, “that you kidnapped me because I’m your ticket to a fortune for you and your crew. I think that you assumed this would be an easy job, though I’m not entirely sure who put you up to it yet. I think you were counting on the fact that your reputation would be enough to make me obey your every order out of fear once you had me on board. And I think that you’re about to find out that you’re in way over your head.”_

_All amusement fell from Hook’s face, replaced by a lethal calm, frightening her more than if he were angry. “I don’t take kindly to being threatened, especially aboard my ship. I’ve killed men for less.”_

_“If you haven’t noticed, I’m a woman,” Emma said, challenge clear in her voice as she straightened her back and lifted her chin defiantly._

_Hook backed away, clearly catching her intended meaning. He turned and walked back to his desk. Slowly, he poured two fingers of liquor before turning around to meet her stare again. “It’s bad form to fight a woman, as_ aggravating _as she might be.”_

_“Even if I’m willing to make a deal?” she asked. She was annoyed with herself for the desperation that was beginning to creep into her tone, but he sounded like a man who lives by a code, one which she could use to her advantage._

_He quirked up an eyebrow and drank from his glass, swirling the contents as he lowered it to his side and sauntered to a rickety chair. He sat down, legs sprawled across the sitting area as he gestured toward an adjacent chair. “That depends on how enticing your offer is, milady.”_

_Emma didn’t take the seat, but she moved closer. “What if we had a duel? We fight until there’s a clear winner, but nobody dies. If I win, I get to go home.”_

_“And if I win?” Hook asked, expression thoughtful._

_“If you win, you get to finish whatever it is you’re doing right now. Sell me or turn me over to Regina or keep me as a trophy, I don’t care. But the honorable thing to do would be to give me a chance to win my freedom.”_

_As she waited for him to respond, she hoped she judged him correctly. If she was wrong, he would laugh in her face, thinking her a spoiled, naïve princess. But if she was right, this would be her only chance to get home and see her family again._

_With a sigh, Hook finished his drink. “That seems a fair bargain. And since I am a gentleman, I’ll grant you this favor.” He stood up, voice dropping to a menacing growl as he approached her. “But let me make myself abundantly clear, Princess._ When _I win – and I will win – you will continue this voyage under my conditions, whatever those may be. You will obey whatever I tell you, and you won’t cause trouble while on board. Do I make myself clear?”_

_Emma smiled sweetly. “It seems we have ourselves an agreement.”_

_Minutes later, Emma had her own clothes back and a sword in hand. Above deck, he sun was shining, the sea breeze curling her hair around her face in ringlets that shone in the sun. It would have been a pleasant day if she wasn’t surrounded by a hoard of smelly pirates._

_Hook circled her lazily, his own sword raised. “Now, I’ll only say this once. Because I’m a gentleman, I’ll give you a chance to yield. Save you the embarrassment, as it were. We can all go about our business and pretend this never happened. What do you say, Emma darling?”_

_“I think I would still prefer ‘Your Highness,’” she mumbled. She lifted her sword and adjusted her stance. Left foot forward, shoulder width apart from her right. She could almost hear her father patiently explaining the basics to her when she was young. She hoped with all of her heart that her training would be enough._

_Hook moved closer to her with each circle, chuckling to his men. “Well lads, it seems our princess is too scared to begin the fight she begged for!”_

_As bellowing laughter rose from the crowd, Emma struck and landed her first blow, slicing his midnight black sleeve open to expose a tattoo on his right forearm. He was quick to return the strike, twirling around as if he were merely rehearsing a complicated waltz._

_They danced around the deck, swords ringing in the midday sun._ Never block from the outside, _she could hear her father say._ Always block from the inside, draw the blade away from you.

_They were well matched, Emma realized. This must be a shock to Hook, who no doubt expected little more than basic knowledge from her. She needed to use this to her advantage, but if she would find a way, she has options. She didn’t intend to lose this fight, even if it means she doesn’t win fairly._

_Feigning exhaustion, she allowed Hook to make the next blow. As his sword struck Emma’s, he used his body weight to knock her to the ground. He looked down at her, using his hook to catch her blade as she desperately tried to shove him off. He had her pinned._

_“Experience always wins a fight, lass, and I have two hundred years of it. Don’t feel bad, you never stood a chance.”_ Two hundred. _She knew from the stories he spent a great deal of time in Neverland, but she didn’t realize just how old he really was. Above her, his expression turned provocative. “You know, normally I would prefer to do more...enjoyable things with a woman on her back.”_

_His wink made her want to vomit._

_“You know,” Emma grunted under the weight of his sword, “I really don’t like your penchant for pet names.”_

_Her frustration got the best of her and before she could stop herself, before she could choke down her power, a wave of bright light burst from her chest. Hook was blown back, cursing, and she stood up as quickly as she could to advance on him. He was laying on the deck, still too stunned to move, and she raised her sword above her head and brought it down on him with all of her strength. He barely blocked the attack in time, but the panic in his crystal blue eyes was unmistakable._

_Now he knew this was no ordinary deal with a frightened girl, but a set up. She saw the defeat written on his face. She had won._

_She kicked his wrist, sending his sword skittering across the deck to the feet of his now speechless crew._

_Cocking an eyebrow, she looked down at Hook as she leaned her face in to his. She placed a foot on his chest and her sword at his throat. “I believe that’s my victory, Captain. Now take me home.”_

 

Emma woke with a start, eyes darting around the room. It was just before dawn, and the embers from her fireplace cast a faint, warm glow around her room.

Today was her birthday. Her new dress hung on the door of the armoire against the wall, matching jewels and beautiful silk slippers dyed to match the gown perfectly laid out on the tufted stool before her vanity table. Tonight, she would have to trade in her usual dark blue breeches, comfortable white shirt, and worn boots for this extravagant ensemble. She hoped that she could pull it off, to at least appear to be the princess everyone expected, even if she didn’t feel like she was.

Lost in her thoughts, it took a while for her to realize that she was completely alone, not even the usual guard posted in her sitting room. Perhaps that was a birthday present from her parents. She had complained for a while about never having a morning to herself, so this was a welcome surprise. _Maybe this won’t be such a bad day after all_ , she thought to herself as she rolled over, feeling excited in spite of herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think??? Does Hook agree to let Emma go home easily after he loses? How do we feel about the first chapter actually happening on her birthday? Kind of a sucky, traumatic birthday. Next chapter we get some Killian perspective and then his account of what happens the night she shows up on his ship! After that, we will be done with flashback chapters and move forward with the story! I tried to include some small details from the show like some lines, outfits, and her red leather (though this is a scabbard, not a jacket), I hope you enjoyed them! Please comment and let me know what you think!


	3. Shock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my loves! It's been two months, and I'm sorry. This chapter is longer than the entire story so far (twenty one (21!!!) pages). Unfortunately, I think the next chapter is going to take a while as well, because I'm moving 2000 miles away and will be in a panic until June. I apologize in advance. Hopefully this chapter can tie you over!
> 
>  
> 
> Just something to note, I have changed the entire story to past tense because I was going crazy. It sounded really bad, so I switched it in the previous chapters and I kind it better this way. Sorry if that's confusing now or something!
> 
> Enjoy!

Earlier That Day

 

Barely an hour after dawn, Killian Jones caught the first glimpse of the capital. The castle’s spires shone in the bright morning light, standing tall above the sprawling, colorful coastal city below. If it weren’t for his contentious history with the royal family who resided here in the summers, he would have gone so far as to say he liked the city. Shops were neat and well stocked, vendors were reasonable and polite, and distractions were obscene and plentiful. It was a rare gem among cities.

Over the next few hours, he and his crew would make port, resupply, and be on their way by nightfall. Spending too much time here was a risk Killian wasn’t willing to take. Gold coins could keep a harbormaster quiet about a ship’s true colors, but Killian knew word would spread to every dingy tavern and brothel by the water that was hoping for some business when the crew made their way into town, in search of a good drink and a better time. From there, it would only be a matter of time before city guards alerted the palace that the Jolly Roger had made berth, and the entire Queen’s Navy would chase him out of the kingdom and beyond.

He loosed a breath and leaned against the smooth railing, bracing himself on his elbows. The sounds of the waves lapping against the side of the bow were his favorite music. The seas were violent and deadly, unforgiving and unyielding, but also capable of such calm and utter silence that could be equally as crushing. Everything about the sea called to him, the wild, untamed tide mirroring his heart.

The crew was starting to stir below deck. Within minutes, the weary skeleton crew that tended the deck nightly would turn into a bustling team of his most seasoned and respected sailors. Everyone aboard had been hand-picked by Killian himself. His men all possessed the qualities that he valued most – ruthlessness, swagger, loyalty, and, most importantly, honor.

Without honor, his brother taught him, a man was no better than the dirt beneath his boots. His crew had sacked a hundred cities, stolen countless riches, but they lived by a code. Good form applied even to pirates.

“Captain Jones!”

The voice that sounded behind him grated on his every nerve.

“Yes, Mr. Smee?” A joyless, tight smile graced his face as he pushed away from his perch.

Smee approached, wringing his ratty red hat in his hands. He was a short fellow with an unkempt beard that covered much of his puffy face. While he lacked in charm and good looks, there was no one aboard the Jolly Roger who Killian trusted more. Any task he needed done, no matter how menial or vicious, Smee was more than happy to do. His help had always been appreciated, but something about his loyal fervor was unsettling.

“Is everything in order for today, sir?”

“Aye, save for one thing. I need you to stay aboard today so the purser can take care of the supplies. It might be a while before we are back in port, and I need everything done correctly.”

Smee shifted nervously, and when he spoke his voice was timid. “All day, sir?”

Killian narrowed his eyes at the first mate. So many questions lately from his first mate. He huffed and replied, “Yes,  _ all day.  _ Is that going to be an issue, or shall I find someone else to take over your position aboard my vessel?”

“W-well, Captain, sir, the crew was wondering, myself included, if we could have the night - just tonight - in port,” Smee stammered. “For morale, you see. It’s been such a long while since we’ve had a night of fun – but not that it’s your fault, of course, Captain – and some of the men are getting quite restless and -”

“Enough. I’m sorry to hear that life aboard the Jolly isn’t  _ fun _ enough for you.” Killian crossed the deck and Smee followed close behind, spewing poorly executed apologies. Killian whirled around, taking two long strides toward him so that he had to look down to meet his companion’s beady gaze. “Any member of my crew who isn’t satisfied with the leave they have graciously been given are welcome to stay ashore and forfeit their positions, including you. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Smee?”

“Y-yes, Captain,” he replied, blinking furiously. “Of course!”

Killian scowled as Smee scurried below deck, to hurry the crew or to distance himself from a beating. Whichever it was, he didn’t particularly care.

His men came up in groups from the commissary, their usual bleary attitudes replaced by excitement. The purser, Mr. Lansing, had dispersed their cuts of the Jolly’s latest plunder - a small but wealthy merchant ship - over breakfast, and were ready to spend their heavy pockets on whatever grog and women they could find in their few hours of freedom.

Nodding to the helmsman in dismissal, Killian sauntered across the deck, hand on the unremarkable pommel of his sword, and took up his position at the helm. In all his years as captain of the Jolly Roger, he had never once allowed anyone else to bring his ship into port. No matter how much he trusted his crew or what sort of condition he was in, no man would ever again have the power to decide where Killian or his vessel would go. Maintaining control of his own fate was a hard-learned lesson, but one he would never forget, even on a supply run.

The crew worked for the next hour to dock at the end of a long gangway, as far away from prying eyes as they could get. Slowly, the ship quieted as every member of the crew, save for the sullen first mate, disembarked for the day and Killian left to register the ship. A few extra coins slipped to the harbormaster ensured that random patrols would be steered away from the ship, and even won the purser a couple of recommendations on where to get the best supplies on short notice.

Hiding his hook in the folds of his heavy leather jacket, Killian left the docks and walked toward his favorite tavern. Though it was dim and dingy, the food was always hot and the barmaid’s gossip was shockingly detailed, which made it an invaluable place to pick up news from the kingdom and, sometimes, the realm beyond. Most of the time it was idle chatter, but every so often he would pick up word of a ship carrying valuable jewels or areas offshore where the navy was stationing extra patrols. Yes, this dilapidated shack was useful and familiar and nearly brought a smile to his face when he laid eyes on it.

Killian shoved the door open and exhaled, momentarily taking in his surroundings. There were three men seated in opposite corners of the room, eating meals and keeping to themselves. The room was warm, a welcome respite from the cool autumn winds blowing in from the bay, and a massive fireplace lent the room a warm glow. The light was welcoming, but not bright enough to chase away the shadows from the far reaches of the room. This was most certainly an important business feature, considering this was a den for some of the more secretive locals and travellers in the kingdom.

Killian had barely taken a seat when the barmaid came to lean on the corner of his table, dropping a tankard of ale in front of him. She was a robust woman with dark hair and enchanting eyes that, depending on the light, danced between green and golden brown. Her dress featured a low-cut bodice, but anyone who frequented the tavern knew she wasn’t to be whisked away to a room in the inn next door for a few hours of leisure. No, this woman knew how to use her appearance to extract information, and how to make a man suffer if he overstepped her boundaries.

“Lovely to see you again, Maria,” he drawled, putting his elbow on the table and supporting his head flirtatiously with a finger and his thumb.

“Aye, I reckoned I hadn’t seen the last of you when I heard that princess of ours escaped your  _ care _ last year.” She raised an eyebrow, as if to remind him that nothing got past her keen ears.

Dropping his gaze to the table, Killian traced the rim of his ale with a ringed finger. “There were...unexpected complications that I didn’t figure into my plans. Rest assured that will never happen again.”

Her face the picture of boredom, Maria inhaled sharply. “You mean you’re back to take the princess?”

Killian huffed a laugh. “No. She’s worth a pretty penny, but I can’t afford the trouble presently.”

“Good,” she replied, standing up and stealing a quick look at the door. “The princess is well guarded these days, though less so than when she came back last year. But some of the best warriors and noble princes from the realm are lined up out the palace gates for her hand in marriage. You’d have to sneak in with their luggage or cling to the bottom of their gilded carriages to make it close to her right now.”

Another laugh. Getting close to the princess wasn’t the real issue, it was finding out how to deal with her once you had. “I appreciate the advice, love. However, my visit will be brief and uneventful. I’m here to restock my ship and be on my way by sundown.”

Maria nodded and disappeared into the kitchens. Killian had barely finished his ale when she came back with a tray of hot stew, a loaf of bread, and another cold tankard. She opened her mouth to speak when the door opened, ushering in a bone-chilling breeze. They both watched as a man with a heavy cloak walked directly toward the table and threw his hood back, revealing his long blonde hair, tanned skin, and dark eyes.

“Captain,” the purser said in greeting. “Maria, you’re looking well.”

“What is it, Lansing?” Killian knew that whenever a member of the crew sought him out on shore leave there was trouble or bad news. 

“I’ve ordered everything we need, plus the extra provisions we discussed at no extra cost.”

“Then what the bloody hell are you doing ruining my meal?” The men across the room looked warily across the room at his exasperated tone, but quickly returned their gazes to their own plates.

Lansing cleared his throat. “There is a...complication with delivery.”

“If they need extra men to transport the orders, find whatever crew you can and have them back at the docks in time -”

“That’s not it, sir,” he interrupted. Killian’s brows furrowed at the impertinence. “Our largest suppliers are unable to get what we need at present. They say the best they can do is tomorrow morning.”

Killian’s jaw set in frustration. “Then pay them extra!”

“I tried to offer them more money, Captain, but they insisted the best they could do is perhaps late tonight. The issue with that is that by then the storms will have blown in and it will be immensely difficult to sail out.”

Of course there would be storms, Killian lamented to himself. Changing seasons brought choppy seas, but a storm wouldn’t cause a shortage of food supplies in such a wealthy town. If anything, less daring captains would be holding out on departing the capital until the winds had passed. “Do tell me, what was the reason they gave for refusing to serve a well paying customer the goods they are owed on the day they requested them, then, Mr. Lansing?”

Maria’s laugh rang in his ears as he turned to look at her. “Because,  _ Captain _ ,” she purred, “every respectable or sizeable business in the city has been bought out of wares to supply the palace. They’re to play host to every eligible bachelor and their courts in the Enchanted Forest tonight. The Jolly Roger’s needs will simply have to get in line behind Princess Emma’s grand birthday party.”

Grinding his teeth, Killian once again faced the purser. “Inform the crew they have the night to themselves,” he bit out, “but everyone is to be back on board at first light, or there will be hell to pay. We can’t afford to be here any longer than that.”

“Yes, Captain.” With a curt nod, Lansing was on his way, leaving Killian to his stew and misery. As he left the tavern and headed for his ship, he couldn’t help but feel that fate was playing a cruel trick.

 

* * *

  
  


_ “I believe that’s my victory, Captain. Now take me home.” _

_ She had won. A spoiled, entitled princess fresh from the palace walls had just bested him in a fight. In front of his crew. _

_ Killian’s breath was heavy as he looked up into the princess’s face. Those blue-green eyes were full of rage so icy they matched cold kiss of her blade on his throat. Her brows were drawn tight and her mouth was set in a hard line as she pinned him down, a beautiful, deadly woman. _

_ Fury and shame washed over him as he replayed the duel in his mind. Of course she had magic. Her parents were a true love pairing, and there had been rumors around the realm for ten years that the young Princess Emma had light magic so powerful it had sent the Evil Queen into hiding. He silently cursed himself for allowing another magical being get the best of him in a fight. _

_ “Our bargain,  _ princess _ , was for a fair fight,” he spat. _

_ “Actually,” she countered, pressing her foot harder into his ribs, “I said we would fight until there was a clear winner, and clearly, I’m the winner. The deal stands.” _

_ Infuriating. This brilliant woman was bloody infuriating. But he had given her his word, and his word was his bond. Without honor, he was nothing more than a murderer and a thief. _

_ “Mr. Smee!” _

_ “Aye, Captain?” _

_ “The princess will be taking your quarters until we return her to her kingdom.” His eyes remained locked on the princess’s as he spoke. “She will receive normal rations and will be treated as our guest. Will this suit you,  _ Your Highness _?” _

_ “It’s a start,” she answered coolly. _

_ “Good. Then I suggest you go before I change my mind,” he replied. He quirked a brow seductively as he added, “Unless you’d like to put on a show, then I’ll gladly stay put.” _

_ Scoffing, the princess stood and walked to the hatch. Killian nodded at Smee to follow her, standing up and brushing off his leather pants. The rest of the crew remained on deck, watching their captain with bated breath. Hesitantly, Johnny stepped forward. _

_ “Do you really mean to set her free, Captain? We’ve been through all this trouble to get her already and -” _

_ Killian rolled his eyes and exclaimed, “Of course we aren’t setting her free, you bloody idiot! Now get back to work before I send you worthless dogs off the plank one by one.” _

_ He raked his hand through his hair and strode to his cabin, slamming the door behind him. He’d have to come up with a damn good plan to get out of this one. This girl, this over-indulged excuse for a princess had bested him.  _ With witnesses! _ Oh, his pride would never allow this to stand. If there was any way out of this hell, he would find it. _

_ A sudden knock on the door startled him as he slumped in his desk chair. He grunted and the door eased open. Helmsman McHanna's face peered around the worn wooden entry. “Captain? What’s our heading?” _

_ Silently, Killian stared at the wall above his neatly made bunk. He promised the princess he would return her home. Upon his honor, he could not break that vow. But the pirate in him desperately wanted to bend the rules, just enough to suit his needs. _

_ “Continue south. Back to land, but not the capital.” The wheels in his head were spinning, invisible hands desperately trying to grasp at any idea that came to his mind. He couldn’t jeopardize the money he and his crew were set to make from the princess’s capture. _

_ “Aye, sir.” McHanna turned on a heel to leave, but Killian quickly called out to stop him. There was one option that could satisfy both bargains he was trapped between. _

_ “I need you to send a message to our friends in the north.” _

  
  


_ Three days later, Killian sat in the front of a longboat, staring at the shore as it drew closer. Emma was sitting next to him, body tense and angled away from everyone. Her hair was mussy, large sections pulled out of her haphazard braid, and her complexion was pallid. She looked at him briefly and he winked at her, smirking in victory as she rolled her eyes and huffed. _

_ To his knowledge, the princess only left her room once during the three days it took them to return to her kingdom, and even then Johnny had to forcibly bring her up on deck to help her seasickness. It was no small satisfaction to Killian that she had spent her time feeling as miserable as he did. Even now, as the waves were pulling at the sides of the unstable longboat, it gave him some amusement to think that - _

_ “I thought our agreement was for you to take me home.” _

_ Killian took a deep breath through his nose and sneered at her. “Don’t you recognize your own kingdom, princess?” _

_ A couple of crew members snickered while they continued rowing the boat to shore, and the princess shot them a look that would make lesser men run for cover. “Of course I recognize it. But surely it would have been easier to just turn around and return me to the palace rather than volunteer yourself and your crew for a week-long trek through the woods.” _

_ “Ah, but where’s the fun in that, love?” His mood lightened significantly as he saw how his sarcasm and pet names bristled her. “But not to worry. It’ll only be three of my men and myself accompanying you on your journey home, the rest of the crew will be back aboard the Jolly Roger, making sure everything is in order.” _

_ “That still doesn’t answer the question,” she mumbled. _

_ “You posed no inquiry, but I assume you mean for me to tell you why I didn’t just drop you back where I found you, yes?” He took her silence as confirmation and grinned smugly, sitting back as he braced his elbows against the lip of the boat. “As you are aware,  _ Your Highness _ , you have been kidnapped. It wouldn’t be in our best interest to simply walk in the front door of the palace with you in tow and ask forgiveness for committing high treason. I quite like my head where it is, as do the ladies. Hence the remote location. We will take you within a half day’s journey of the palace and you’ll be on your way from there, as promised.” _

_ When he finished, she stared at him with an intensity that could shake Davy Jones himself to the core, her gaze so full of hate and distrust that Killian became uncomfortable. “I’ll tell you something,  _ Captain Hook _. I’m very good at knowing when someone is lying to me. When I find out what you’re hiding or what you’re planning, I promise I will make you regret it.” _

_ Not even two hundred years of practice could keep the ice in her voice from cracking his carefully crafted mask, his bravado momentarily slipping and giving way to trepidation. But she was just a princess, coddled and protected by her parents and her guards from the moment she was born. He doubted she had any real expertise beyond basic swordsmanship. _

_ Long, silent minutes passed, and Killian was grateful as the boat began to drag on the sandy floor beneath the waves. Along with Smee and Sullivan, he splashed into the shallow water to haul them to the beach as Johnny remained sitting next to the princess. He wouldn’t put it past her to jump into the sea and call out to some long-lost mermaid friend to rescue her. _

_ Leaving the crew to unload supply satchels from the boat, Killian took out a map and compass and found their bearings. Nearly a week’s walk northwest with only one town to risk exposing their identities along the way, this route had been carefully chosen for many reasons, not the least of which included avoiding the many dangers that came from travelling too deep in the woods of the Enchanted Forest. _

_ If they were lucky, five days from now, King George’s men would come to exchange the princess for a hefty ransom, and they wouldn’t have to get anywhere near the capital city or the palace. _

_ Killian opened his mouth to speak, but quickly stopped himself as he faced the princess. She was being assisted out of the boat by Johnny, her deceivingly delicate hands braced on his shoulders as he lifted her up and away from the waves, then placed her onto the dry sand. He quickly turned away, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what bothered him about the scene. _

_ What did she need help for, anyhow? She easily bested him in a fight - albeit with the help of her magic - and she hadn’t once complained about the dirt subtly smudging her skin from days at sea with no bath. And yet somehow she was afraid of a little bit of water? _

_ “Perhaps she is as spoiled as we thought, Captain,” Smee mumbled as if he were reading Killian’s thoughts. _

_ Killian exhaled through his nose and turned his attention back to his watchman and the princess. They were talking casually enough as if they had formed some sort of friendship these past three days while he guarded her cabin, though she kept a hand on the dagger she had belted at her side. Johnny hauled the last of the supplies out of the boat and Killian cleared his throat. _

_ “Today, mate.” The words came out sharper than he intended. Johnny ducked his head at the harsh tone and walked toward the rest of his crew, leaving the princess in the sand alone by the turquoise water. _

_ Perhaps what he was feeling, he realized, was shame. Shame for not being a gentleman and helping the lady out of the boat, as Johnny had done. Shame for kidnapping a woman, whether or not she was as strong and willful as this one. And worse yet, shame for becoming a man he knew Liam would have so despised. _

  
  


_ For five days, Killian trekked through the unbearable late summer humidity with his crew and Her Royal Highness, Princess Pain-in-Killian’s-Ass. While he had expected for her to complain about everything from their lackluster squirrel dinners to sleeping on the ground, she hadn’t griped about a single thing. In fact, she seemed to thrive on their current environment, or at least her biting sarcasm was made sharper by it. And what made it worse, he thought, was that it was usually directed at everyone except for Johnny, who currently walked alongside her like some awestruck puppy. _

_ Royal attitude aside, their travels had been unremarkable. No monsters, no skirmishes with minor criminals, nothing save for the unrelenting heat. Killian suspected, however, that this was to change tomorrow night when the time came to exchange the princess for his reward. _

_ Thunder rumbled overhead as Killian glanced over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes. “Mr. Davies!” _

_ Johnny and the princess stopped their hushed conversation as hurried footsteps sounded behind him. “Aye, Captain?” _

_ “I believe it’s time to start scouting for a place to camp for the night. Why don’t you take Smee and Sullivan with you and find some place before the bloody rain starts.” Killian looked over at the man, noticing how careful he was to avoid his captain’s eyes as he nodded. “Good lad.” _

_ He stood and watched his men walk ahead before turning to the princess. “Now, Emma -” _

_ “It’s either Your Highness or Miss Swan to you,” she corrected. _

_ “Swan?” He quirked an eyebrow at her, then rummaged through his worn satchel for an apple they brought from the ship. He tossed her the fruit, and nearly scoffed when she caught it perfectly without breaking eye contact. _

_ “Should I be worried that this is poisoned?” Beneath her bitterness, he saw genuine concern in her eyes. _

_ “Come now, love. I think you and I both know poisoned apples are hardly the most effective murder weapon in the kingdom, thanks to your mother.” He smirked at her, and though she rolled her eyes, she looked relieved as she wiped the apple on the hem of her shirt and began eating as they resumed walking. _

_ “You know,” she mumbled around a mouthful of apple, “I’m actually very tired of your pet names.” _

_ “So you’ve said,” he retorted. “However, I’m quite curious how you came by your own name, Miss Swan.” _

_ She was quiet for a moment, the only sound between them the crunch of the leaves beneath their feet and the munching of her crisp apple. He had almost given up on getting a response from her when she quietly cleared her throat. _

_ “I used to love this one story when I was a child. About a baby duck who was born to the wrong family and was picked on for being the ugliest sibling.” _

_ “Yes, I know the one,” Killian said, peering at her out of the corner of his eye as she took another large bite of her apple. _

_ “I don’t know, I just felt as a child that I could never grow up to be as good and pure as my parents. And I always felt like such an outsider because of my magic that I guess I related to the duckling.” She finished off the apple and chucked the core into the woods with a thud. “I always found comfort in the story, because it turned out the duck was really a swan all along. Not worthless, not disappointing, not ugly. Just different. Just like me. And before you say it, I know that sounds like a horrible explanation.” _

_ A small silence stretched between them as they walked, thunder rumbling in the distance ominously. Killian had heard the story, of course. His brother used to read it to him from a book of tales he stashed away in his bunk aboard their first ship. They had both been so young and miserable that Killian remembered feeling as if he too understood what it meant to be an outsider, to feel that he didn’t belong in the situation that had been forced upon him. But hearing the perspective of the princess, it almost made her...relatable. _

_ Finally, Killian spoke. “Well, Miss Swan, I’d say the name is aptly chosen. As I recall, the ugly duckling grew up to be the most beautiful of the birds.” _

_ The princess glared at his poorly disguised flirting, but huffed a single laugh through her nose when he quirked his eyebrows at her. Killian was inclined to continue when he saw that twinkle of humor in her eye until they came to a halt where Johnny and the others had set up camp. _

_ “Thank you, Captain, for the conversation,” she said stiffly, all the amusement drained from her face as if she had suddenly remembered why she was here in the first place. Killian said nothing in response as she stalked away, toward the fire Johnny was trying to light. And for the first time, Killian Jones may have felt regret. _

  
  


_ The sun had fully set when the rain started. Sullivan found no luck hunting for squirrels or rabbits, and neither did the princess, he noted smugly, when she had stormed off into the woods with her dagger, muttering about how her mother could hunt circles around their sorry asses. Their dinner consisted of apples and the supply of hardtack they brought from the ship, the latter of which was likely to be soggy and inedible by the morning. It had been days since any of them had a proper meal, and it was beginning to take its toll, especially on Mr. Smee, who had likely never missed a meal in his life. _

_ The only luck they had that evening was perhaps in finding their campsite. Tucked in the side of a hill, a small stone outcropping offered them shelter against the rain. All five of them were pressed with their backs against the sodden back of the makeshift cave, shoulder to shoulder, with their legs stretched before them. The rain-cooled air offered a welcome reprieve from the heat, but if the deluge continued, it would make for a cold night without a fire. Indeed, the princess was thinking the same thing if the chattering of her teeth was any indication. _

_ Killian stole a glance to his right, where she was nestled between him and Johnny’s broad shoulders. They had been quite chatty at dinner, but now that the rain had started and they were so cramped together, no one spoke a word. _

_ Despite his prejudices, he had to admit that she was breathtakingly beautiful. The gods had to give her some quality to lessen the blow of her harsh words and strong will, he thought, but there was no doubt now in Killian’s mind that there would have been lines of suitors outside the palace walls within the year had she been left alone. _

_ But more than that, something intrigued him about the princess. While he had never been one to turn away from a pretty face, the princess’s spirit was a compelling challenge. Everything from her insufferable swank to the infuriating things that came from her mouth when she even deigned to speak to him seemed to call his name, as if it were a summons for his soul. _

_ It was all Killian could do to not call off the trade tomorrow and find a way to get her back to the ship instead. Not as a hostage or a trophy, but as a personal puzzle that he may well never solve. And something deep within him knew that would be okay. He was lost in thought as he drifted off to sleep next to his crew, almost hoping tomorrow didn’t come. _

  
  


_ The captain woke with a start, hand going for the sword he had discarded to his right. But all he found was an empty scabbard.  _

_ Panic sunk in. His brother’s sword - all he had left of Liam - gone. _

_ He blinked, taking in his surroundings. It was still storming, the rain coming down in blinding sheets that were only made worse by the near-constant lightning. Smee and Sullivan were still in a deep sleep, Smee’s damp hat flopping in his face. And to his left, Johnny was bound and gagged, an empty space where the princess sat probably not moments ago. _

_ “Oh, bloody hell!” He exclaimed, lunging to remove Johnny’s gag. _

_ What a fool. He was a bloody fool. They all were, for believing that the princess would allow them to escort her the entire way without nearly the fuss she could have put up. Her attitude had been tedious the past days, but with her magic...she had been holding back. She pretended to be a docile captive long enough to gain their trust so that they would give up rotating watches, then used the weather to her advantage. _

_ Killian finally got the damp knot untied in Johnny’s gag - a handkerchief that Killian himself had given the princess to tie back her golden curls - and shook the watchman’s shoulders. “What the hell just happened here?” _

_ “I’m not really sure, Captain! She was asleep one moment, and the next my hands and feet were tied and she was tying that kerchief around my face and I tried to stop her but - ” _

_ “You blubbering buffoon! Which way did she go?” His heart was beginning to race. If he didn’t make this meeting tomorrow, he wouldn’t just lose a great deal of money, his life may be forfeit as well. But if he could find her, he may still have a chance to pull this off, princess be damned. _

_ “North, Captain,” Johnny panted. He was struggling against the bindings on his hands, but Killian had no intention of untying him just yet. He had questions to ask once the princess was recovered. _

_ “Smee!” Killian roared as Smee and Sullivan were just stirring, mumbling about the ungodly hour of their awakening.  _

_ “Y-yes, Captain,” Smee yawned, straightening his dripping hat. _

_ “You come with me. You take the right path and I’ll take this one,” he said, pointing to the path that lead straight from the ledge where they were camped. “Sullivan will stay here with Mr. Davies. If he tries to escape after the princess, kill him.” _

_ If Sullivan was in any way surprised by the captain’s command, he hid it well. He simply nodded and placed a hand on his sword. _

_ “Come, Mr. Smee. It’s time for a hunt.” _

_ Killian stepped out into the pouring rain, letting the darkness of the night devour any lingering light in his heart. _

_ Tricked. _

_ Killian Jones had allowed himself to be tricked by a princess whose parents were little more than bedtime stories. Heavens above, she was no less mythical than her parents. This is what he had been reduced to: chasing a fairy tale through the forest. _

_ He’d accepted that he was the villain in any story that would be written about his adventures. Villainy was his destiny. In fact, he rather liked it that way. No rules, no restraints on what he could and could not do, save for one: villains can never have happy endings. _

_ It was this thought, this bitterness Killian allowed himself to feel that motivated him to continue trudging through endless mud and rain. Right now was his opportunity to destroy the princess’s happy ending, to make sure that she never knew the happiness her parents did. She had gambled by crossing him, and he would see to it that she lost. _

_ Sprinting now as fast as he was able, he looked for any sign of the escaping princess, but there was none. No footprints, no broken branches, not a single leaf out of order. Clever girl. The rain was doing a fantastic job of hiding her tracks, no doubt a trick she learned from her mother. _

_ Killian abruptly stopped and looking around. Two hundred years of hunting lost boys had sharpened the pirate’s senses, and as he stood still, the sounds of the rain faded away as he focused on heavy panting that wasn’t coming from him. It was very doubtful that Smee had made it this far - his pace was abysmally slow. Peering through the trees, he tried to find a glimpse of blonde hair, or gleaming blue-green eyes. _

_ But he never thought to look up. _

_ He heard the princess’s cry as she launched herself from the tree. Her boots slammed into his shoulders and they both went sprawling. _

_ His teeth sang as he slammed into the ground. A warm trickle started down his face, no doubt from a nosebleed. He picked his head up to see the princess, covered in mud, already picking herself up off the ground. He almost choked as he saw his sword - his brother’s sword - strapped across her back, but any sense of calm fled his body as she palmed two daggers. Where had she gotten the second one? _

_ His blood roiled as he recognized the scarred wooden hilt of Johnny’s dagger. _

_ “You’re making a huge mistake, Swan.” He pushed himself out of the mud and onto his feet. _

_ She chuckled darkly, gesturing with her daggers as his sword glinted in the lightning. “As I see it, the deck is stacked in my favor. All you appear to have are your wits and your good looks.” _

_ “It doesn’t have to be this way. We agreed we would escort you back to the palace.” Time. He had to buy himself time. Smee had a sword, and as soon as he bothered to show up, he could use their numbers to take control of the situation. _

_ “Yes, you did. But you didn’t mention what you were planning with my grandfather, King George, now did you?” She was practically snarling at him. “Did you think I would let you hand me over to him? Did you  _ actually believe  _ that I was some naive little girl who couldn’t figure out what you were planning?” _

_ His shook his head, pounding headache starting to set in. Just a few more moments and Smee would surely show up. He had to keep her here. “Tell me, princess, how did you figure out our plan?” _

_ She snorted. “Seriously, you guys aren’t subtle about your messengers. Black crows? You may as well have signed ‘Dear King George’ on the outside of your little love letters.” _

_ “Aye, your grandfather was quite stubborn about the birds, I’ll give you that. I see where you get it from,” he replied with a sneer, delighted at the disgust he found in her face at the comparison. _

_ “I made you a promise a few days ago. Do you remember that promise, Hook?” She took a slow step toward him, and he began looking around to find anything he could use as a weapon. _

_ “Aye, I do. I believe you’ll make me regret my villainous ways and all that.” He took a small step forward, schooling his face into a prurient expression. “Tell me, love, what do you intend to do to me? Shall I scream or beg for mercy?” _

_ A challenge. He still needed time, and if he could play into her pride, she might just give it to him. _

_ Something in her face shifted. She took another step toward him, and he straightened as she came within touching distance and studied his face. _

_ “Seems a shame to waste such a pretty face,” she admitted. _

_ “Glad you finally seem to be coming to your senses about me.” He raised an eyebrow, but continued to watch her every breath. _

_ “Yes, I am,” she breathed. Her eyes slowly dropped from his eyes to his mouth, then down to his neck, and back up. “I’ll just have to leave it intact then.” _

_ Before her words registered, she swung with her daggers. He was barely able to stumble back as the tips of the blades sliced mercilessly, one to his throat and the other to his abdomen, in a maneuver he could only call brutal. _

_ It struck him then that not only was this princess competent in swordplay, but she was a trained warrior. They hadn’t just been lucky the day they picked her up alone in the woods. They had walked straight into a trap. _

_ Killian looked at her face. Nothing in the princess’s expression indicated that she planned to spare his life if he got between her and her exit. Surviving was what he had always done, and this time would be no different. The heavy rain cooled his blinding rage as he took a step back and held up his arms, hook gleaming in the midnight storm. _

_ He shook his head, disbelief setting in. After weeks of planning with King George’s overconfident henchmen, he would never have predicted this outcome. His pride, crumpled at the feet of a pampered princess. _

_ The worst part was, he couldn’t help feeling a twisted sense of admiration for her. _

_ “This isn’t over, you and I,” he snarled. _

_ She put away her daggers and drew his sword from over her shoulder. Thunder cracked overhead as lightning harshly illuminated her features. _

_ “You had better hope you’re wrong, Killian Jones.” _

_ The princess raised her arms above her head and thrust his sword into the ground with an impact that made the hilt bob as she stepped back, but her eyes never left his own. She backed away step by step, until finally she disappeared into the shadows of the trees and took off running. _

_ As Killian stood there, water dripping down his scowling face from his soaking wet hair, he hoped she was right. _

 

* * *

 

Rain pattered against the windowsill as Killian pushed his feet into his boots. Moments ago, he had been awoken by a loud bang on deck. He could only have been asleep two hours, and no one could bloody stand to leave him alone it seemed.

The entire crew, except for Lansing and Smee (the latter of whom was only behind on orders), was sleeping off ship, probably next to whatever wench they could find the fastest. He knew they wouldn’t be back a moment before they were due. But he didn’t put it past Smee to try to sneak away.

This thought did nothing to improve his sour mood. His dreams, those memories of a wicked, clever princess, plagued him on nights like these. He suspected he would never get over the anger he felt when he thought of what happened last summer, nor would his pride ever recover.

He buckled on his sword, foregoing his usual leather vest for his heavier coat, and shoved the door to his quarters open. He would finally throw Smee overboard this time, he decided. He had grown too interrogative, too disrespectful in the past year, it was time to teach him a lesson.

He stomped up the narrow ladder and drew his blade, a curse on his lips as he laid the first foot on deck.

“What the bloody hell - ?” 

He stopped.  _ Everything _ stopped. He no longer heard the rain falling on the deck, no longer felt the cold wind that battered his face. All he knew was unending ire and genuine shock.

His eyes swept her from head to toe as they stood in stunned silence. She was swaying, and her dark lined eyes were glassy. Blood was running down the side of her face and staining her blonde curls from a gash she received very recently. Her silk gown was probably once stunning, but now looked more like an old dish rag that hung in tatters over matching silk slippers. In another circumstance, he might have thought she was beautiful.

Suddenly, she stumbled forward as if she was unable to control her own body, so unlike the woman he met over a year ago, a veritable warrior. He took a step toward her and sheathed his sword, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak until she did.

“I...I didn’t know where else to go,” she slurred, her voice a whisper above the downpour. Had she been poisoned?

He opened his mouth to speak - he had so many questions - but before he could ask any of them she pitched forward with a grunt. He lunged and caught her unconscious body in his arms.

Frantically, Killian looked toward the docks. Surely she would have been followed here by guards or even the king or queen themselves. But there was no one in sight. If ever there was an opportunity, now would be it. The princess had even willingly given herself over.

With a grunt, he hefted her into his arms and carried her down the stairs to the first mate’s quarters. He kicked the door thrice, and Smee promptly answered, as if he hadn’t been asleep at all. Smee looked from Killian’s face to the woman in his arms.

“Is - is that...?”

“Aye, now open the bloody door!” Smee flung the door open and began to gather his belongings. Indeed, he had been awake and working at the small table in the corner.

Killian placed the princess onto the inlaid bunk on the opposite wall, though not as gently as he should have. He didn’t think she would mind, considering she didn’t even stir as her foot hit the corner of the wall on the end of the bed.

“Seems our old friend has gotten herself into trouble, and couldn’t resist bringing it to my ship,” Killian drawled.

Footsteps approached, and the two men whirled around to meet the groggy stare of the purser. Lansing looked from the men to the bunk behind and blanched. “What happened here?”

Lansing was already moving to the wash bowl. He rung out a cloth and began to clean the blood from the princess’s face as Killian and Smee stood out of his way.

“Mr. Smee, I need you to fetch the entire crew immediately. Tell them we leave in an hour, whether their sorry asses are back here or not.”

“Sir?” Smee’s eyebrows were knitted together as his wide eyes met the captain’s.

“We are taking the princess with us. I don’t know why she is here, but she is obviously running away from something, and I plan to assist her. Which means we need to leave. Immediately.”

“Y-yes, Captain,” Smee breathed, then stumbled out of the room into the rainy night.

Killian turned from the doorway and approached the bunk. Lansing was almost finished cleaning her wound.

“I think she’s been poisoned,” he said quietly.

“No sign of that, but she may have been given something non-lethal. It'll run its course in due time. She needs stitches though,” Lansing suggested quietly.

“Whatever needs to be done. We treat her as one of our own for now,” he replied. He could not measure the hatred he had for this woman, but he would be damned if he didn’t take advantage of this chance fate had just dumped onto the deck of his ship. He moved the princess’s stained hair from her face as Lansing prepared the wound to be sewn, the corner of his mouth lifting in a devious smile.

“Welcome aboard, Miss Swan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave a comment! I appreciate all of you that do. 
> 
> If you want updates on my writing progress or want to see sneak peeks of what I'm writing, message me on tumblr (veryverynotgoodwrites) and I'll add you to my updates list so you can be the first to see it!


	4. Empty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. It's been a while. Oops!
> 
> This chapter is a little shorter than normal, but I'm playing more with emotion and I'll get back to plot in the next chapter! The next chapter is already in the works, so don't expect a super long wait like last time!
> 
> Please don't judge me if you find something wrong, this is totally unedited! My friend is busy killing it irl so I'm hoping this is good enough! Let me know if you find anything egregiously wrong with it.
> 
> Enjoy!

With every heartbeat, there was relentless pounding in her head.

In some distant part of Emma’s mind, she sensed warm sunlight streaming in from a window. It was suffocatingly hot.

_ Where am I? _

Opening her eyes seemed so impossible.

Every thought was painful, slow. It felt like she was wading through a pool of honey. She could have even sworn there was a gentle swaying, as if that pool were an ocean.

A warm hand suddenly grasped the side of her face, followed by the cold press of a rag on her forehead. She could have moaned from the relief.

She heard a voice - a man - speak to her, but she couldn’t understand what he said.  _ Slow down _ , she wanted to say.  _ Tell me who you are. _

Cautiously, she cracked her eyes.

She was in a bunk. Snug, yet big enough to lay comfortably. There was wood everywhere, shiny and pristine. But the windows were dirty, as if no amount of cleaning could wipe off the salty grime that stained them.

Had she actually made it to the ship?

So dizzy… all she could feel was the world spinning around her, everything whirling out of control. Her head was roaring so violently she could hear it in her ears. It was so stuffy, so hot in this room. Why would no one open the window?

Emma tried ask, but her mouth was dry. Her throat stuck together, threatening to choke her. She had barely become aware of her jagged breathing as she felt her consciousness fading away.

The last thing she saw was a glint of frightened blue eyes.

 

* * *

 

Gasping for air, Emma jerked awake so suddenly she almost slammed her head into the ceiling of the bunk.

As she took in the details of the room, she realized three things:

First, it appeared she had indeed made it to the ship. Hanging nets of citrus fruit and strange dehydrated plants gently swayed back and forth. The polished oak table under the window sat empty save for a single tattered map and a rusted sextant. A small chest of drawers sat in the corner, the candle on top long since burned out. From the open window behind her, she could hear waves rhythmically lapping up onto the side of the ship.

Second, she wasn’t in the brig this time. The room was familiar to her from her last tenure aboard the Jolly Roger, and she knew where she was even in the early light of dawn. If her headache was any indication of her condition, she had probably been given the first mate’s quarters purely out of necessity, not hospitality. 

Third, she wasn’t alone.

Deep blue eyes gleamed from the corner, staring straight at her. Long legs were stretched out in front of a rickety chair, lazily crossed at the ankles. A freckled hand raked down the man’s face in exhaustion.

“I thought I told you not to come looking for trouble when I helped you escape last year,  _ princess, _ ” the distinctly male voice growled.

All Emma could do was blink, forcing air into her lungs through the tightness building in her chest and throat. She forced herself to swallow, her throat screaming from dryness.

“You know I’m not very good at following directions,” she rasped, feeling her lips crack slightly as she allowed herself a small smile.

His huff quickly turned to a genuine chuckle. “No, you never have been,” he admitted, stretching his arms over his head as he stood up and approached the bed. “If I hadn’t grown up dealing with your insufferable stubbornness, I’d hate you for it.”

“Sofia would wallop you for thinking ill of me, regardless of how close you are,” she croaked as Johnny came closer. Her mouth was like sandpaper. How long had she been asleep?

He laughed softly. “Yes, you’re probably right about that.”

“It’s nice to see you in one piece.”

She was sure that when she escaped last year he would be punished for his part in the plan. Despite their strategy, she was fairly certain his role had been quite obvious. He arranged most of the escape himself, insisting that leaving him tied up with no weapons would be the most convincing way to keep blame off of him rather than simply making him an easy target against the angry pirates. But he looked more or less the same since the last time she saw him, no injuries or scars that she could tell. Either Hook hadn’t found out, or he had been hurt in other ways. Somehow, she doubted it.

A pitcher and ladle sat on a small washstand tucked neatly beside the bunk. Carefully, Johnny picked them up and perched on the edge of the mattress.

“Here,” he whispered, dipping the ladle into the water. He raised it to her lips tenderly, as if he knew the pain she was in. It was disorienting - the dull ache in her head and the sting of her dry, cracked mouth. She pushed up on her elbows and leaned forward, drinking deeply and savoring the clean taste.

Emma swore she would never take water for granted for as long as she lived. The first ladle was gone before she could feel it on her tongue. The second was pure relief. Each time she emptied the container, Johnny patiently refilled it. By the time her thirst was slaked, she lost count of how much she consumed. It could have been the whole pitcher, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. As Johnny set the crock aside, the ladle clattered against the bottom.

“Hello again, Emma,” he finally said, a relieved smile lighting his face momentarily.

She cleared her throat and forced a small smile. “Hello again.”

“When he hears you’re awake, he’s going to freak.” He spoke softly, as if speaking too loudly would indeed alert the captain. She wouldn’t put it past Killian to have a guard on the other side of the door.

“Good,” she mumbled, sitting up fully with a muffled groan.

“I think he was hoping you wouldn’t wake up until he decided what exactly he was going to do with you.”

Emma’s attention snagged at that. “He doesn’t already have a plan?”

“No, of course not! You showed up in the middle of the night, drenched from head to toe and drugged beyond reason! And mind you, that’s not even including the nasty gash on your forehead. Lansing had to sew you up. It took him nearly an hour, you know,” he informed her.

A faint memory of her head smacking against the dock flashed through her mind.  _ Well that would explain the headache, _ she thought to herself. She reached up and touched her forehead. It was swollen, but she could feel the stitches. The skin felt tight, but she didn’t detect any fever. Someone had been cleaning it regularly to keep the infection away.

“If he doesn’t have a plan, then where are we?”

Johnny shook his head. “We don’t know. He won’t tell anyone, not even Smee. I don’t even think we’ve been near the shallows since we left the kingdom. All we have heard is that he wants to stay on the open seas for as long as possible, but that can’t be long given our supply stock.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “He hasn’t even told most of the crew that you’re here. Besides him, only Smee, Lansing, and myself know, and he promised a swift death to any of us who should leak the information. I think he hopes Regina will just _poof_ onto the deck and take you away before anyone finds out.”

Emma nodded slowly, studying Johnny’s face. He offered a short smile and reached over to tuck a stray hair behind her ear.

“Why would you come back, Emma? Please, just tell me your plan and I’ll do what I can to help you.”

“Someone stormed the castle during my birthday celebration. I don’t know who was behind it and I don’t really know why, but the men, they…” She stumbled over her words, but took a deep breath and continued. “They were obviously ill-intentioned and they were after me. I know someone let them into the palace, there was no other way they could have gotten in. Not on that night, anyway. So I didn’t really know who to trust and I had heard the Jolly was in port and I just remembered that Hook seemed desperate to keep me on board last time for whatever trade he was planning. I figured if I showed up so conveniently, he would try to make another deal with King George and I’d have time to come up with a plan while he was keeping me here. At the very least, I could find a way to get word to my parents during transport.”

“Killian hasn’t been in contact with anyone for days, not even suppliers in other ports.” He looked away and shook his head. His pause was hesitant. “When we left the city…Emma, I don’t think anyone will be looking for you, even King George.”

Emma’s stomach dropped. “What?”

His eyes returned to her face and he carefully took her hands in his. “Emma, when we left, the last news we heard was that the bandits who sacked the castle had killed the royal family.”

Tears stung her eyes. Her throat tightened as she processed his words. Every one of her worst fears were coming true in a single moment. Those words threatened to drown her, to stamp out any light that lingered in her heart.

Her parents were dead.

Murdered.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice sounded miles away as she choked out a quiet sob.

Like a candle in the rain, she felt her magic flicker out, her heart cold and numb.

She felt utterly empty.

No light, no happiness, no powers left.

Gone, like her family.

She had never realized it before, but that light was given to her by her mother’s smile and her father’s laugh, by their love for each other and for her. Could her light even exist without them? She had no true love of her own - what if her powers no longer had anything to feed on?

“Emma?”

Johnny’s voice shook her from her thoughts.

“You wouldn’t know, by chance, if Sofia…” His voice trailed off, unable to finish his thought.

All Emma could manage was a shake of her head. No, she hadn’t seen her lady’s maid for nearly an hour before the attack. Of course he should be worried about her, the only family he had remaining might very well be gone too. For all they knew, she was. She was a close friend of the royal family, after all.

Alone. They were both completely alone in this world.

Her entire life, she had been Emma Swan, daughter of the legendary Queen Snow and King James. Just a princess, a girl in the shadow of her parents’ legacy. Eventually, she had hoped to grow into her role. She had hoped to become a queen as dedicated to her people as her mother and as just as her father. But now that they were gone, she would have none of their wisdom to guide her.

And the throne -

“Wait. You said ‘killed the royal family.’ Does everyone think  _ I’m _ dead?”

Confusion flashed across Johnny’s eyes. “Yes, everyone thinks you were killed along with your parents.”

“If they think I’m dead, surely someone else has taken my parents’ throne.” A plan started to form in her mind as revenge began to cloud her judgement.

“And whoever it is, they are almost certainly responsible for the attack,” he finished, nodding as he let go of her hands and sat back in his chair beside the bed.

“Is there any way we can get news from the Enchanted Forest soon?”

Johnny took a deep breath. “We will have to stop for supplies in the next few days. We left the city without even loading what we bought. Cooke says we will be out of food in about six days’ time. I’d wager we will make port sometime in the next three or four. She wouldn’t let Killian put it off much longer than that.”

“Well then,” she started, wiping tears from her eyes, “I believe it’s time for my royal entrance.”

 

* * *

 

There was no salvaging the dress. It was unfortunate - she did like the way it turned out. Emma felt a pang of regret as she recalled blowing Sofia off when they’d selected the extravagant garment. But a pirate ship was no place for frilly dresses and fancy ribbons.

It took 20 minutes to find a pair of pants in the dresser that remotely fit her, and the shirt required strategic tucking to remain on her body at all. Johnny disappeared while she dressed, but to her delight, he returned with a belt. There were no boots on board to spare, so she slid her feet into her ruined silk slippers and took a deep breath as she braided her hair back onto her neck.

_ Queen. _

The word hit her with a violent clang. 

She was technically the queen, though no one knew she was alive. Every whisper in the court of her inexperience, of her uncontrolled powers, of her unwillingness to find love or companionship shouldn’t matter anymore. She was the queen, whether she was ready or not. But somehow, those whispers still meant a great deal.

A broken queen of a broken kingdom.

“Here,” Johnny said, moving to the desk and opening the drawer. When he approached her again, she saw that he held a plain dagger -  _ her _ hunting dagger, still attached to the soft brown belt that she wore around her thigh. “A woman should never be unarmed.”

She offered a small smile. “My father said the same thing when he gave this to me. It was a gift from him on my sixteenth birthday,” she told him as she buckled the holster over her still too baggy pants. Not a flattering look, but she was going more for ‘imposing’ than ‘stunning.’ “I believe you were already off pirating by then. You would have laughed yourself hoarse watching him teach me to use it.”

“What a pity I missed it,” he joked, prodding her with his elbow.

Her smile was hollow as she took one last look in the mirror over the dresser. “Let’s get on with it, then.”

Johnny opened the door of the cabin and led her through a dark corridor. She recognized the path. She had come this way before her duel with Hook. Five more paces and a left turn, then she would be at the stairs leading to the deck.

Her thoughts raced through her head. She had no clue how Hook would react, let alone the crew. Would she be banished to the brig again, now that she was healing? Would Hook even care to keep her safe this time, now that she was presumed dead? Or would the crew just throw her to the depths without a thought? Would she even be valuable enough for her plan to work? She was just a princess without a crown. A queen without a throne.

_ Queen. _

Sunlight warmed her face and she blinked against the glare. A slight salty breeze ruffled the loose curls around her face.

She was a queen, and she would save her kingdom.

The clatter of footsteps on deck slowed. Shouts died to whispers as Emma’s eyes swept the deck before finally levelling a determined stare at the ship’s captain.

“What is she doing here? Has she been here this whole time?” Quiet chatter confirmed what Johnny had told her earlier; the crew truly knew nothing of her presence here.

Hook’s face was expressionless as he studied her from behind the wheel. He stared at the gash on her forehead for a moment before his gaze slowly drifted down her body. She almost scoffed, until he finally took in her slippers. A familiar smirk spread across his face and she shifted, trying to draw attention away from her feet.

“Well, well!” His voice boomed across the hushed deck. “It’s about time our sleeping beauty awoke! Or is that the wrong kingdom? I always forget these things, you princesses are all the same.”

Hesitant laughter rumbled around her as Hook descended the stairs onto the main deck.

Oh, she  _ definitely  _ did not miss this. She’d nearly forgotten how aggravating he was - his taunting, his demeanor, his  _ face _ . One day, she was going to slap that quirked eyebrow straight off of that annoyingly handsome face.

“Welcome aboard again, Your Highness,” he said with a mocking bow. He stepped forward, his toes nearly touching hers as he looked down into her face after briefly nodding a dismissal to Johnny.

Mischief danced in his eyes as he waited for a snarky response, but she couldn’t find the energy.

All she could feel was all-consuming anger.

“Or should I say Your Majesty?” His voice was quieter this time, prodding. 

“Miss Swan will still do,” she snapped.

“Ah, there she is,” he coaxed, moving the end of her braid over her shoulder. She slapped his hand away and actually scoffed this time.

He was baiting her, she realized. He wanted her to play along. But why?

“I guess some things just never change, captain.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,  _ Miss Swan. _ Though I do prefer you in more...flattering clothes. Perhaps we could change that,” he goaded, his eyebrows wiggling as he turned and strode back to the helm.

Another scoff. Emma followed as Hook began barking orders at the crew to continue their work.

“We need to talk,” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest when they stopped at last.

“Oh?” He studied his map, refusing to turn his attention toward her. “To what would I owe such a pleasure?”

“I have a few questions I need answered, and I’d rather do it now than later.”

Emma looked at his map and was dumbstruck. None of it made any sense. Random points and dots and scribbles filled the paper in no particular order or system. It was no map she had ever seen before. Certainly not one that could help her find out where she was or where they were going.

“It’s called a star map,” he explained over his shoulder, noticing her attention. “You need a key to read it, and only I have the key.”  
“Why go to all that trouble? Seems like a lot of work to hide your location from your _trustworthy_ crew.”

Hook swivelled to meet her stare as she heard Smee choked a cough behind him. “No,  _ you _ have caused the trouble here, Miss Swan.” His voice was deathly quiet, all amusement in his piercing blue eyes now replaced by razor-sharp intensity. “ _ You _ owe  _ me _ answers, not the other way around. I’ve played as your host for the last week and made sure you were cared for. For all I knew, your actions were just part of some elaborate scheme to capture me and my crew, but being the gentleman I am, I chose to help the maiden in distress. The way I see it, princess, I owe you nothing. In fact, you are now indebted to me.”

She was speechless. Truly speechless. He was right. He’d had no reason to protect and care for her beyond his own moral code. She moved her hands to her hips, her eyes scanning the faces of the crew standing with them on the quarterdeck. They were all carefully avoiding eye contact, as if butting in on this argument may earn them a walk down the plank.

Hook took a deep breath, reigning in his temper. “Meet me at my cabin in an hour and we will talk. You are free to roam the ship as you please. Consider Smee’s quarters as your own until I say otherwise.”

“Wait, I’m not…” Emma’s brow furrowed.

“A prisoner? No,” he informed her. He finally folded his map and once again took up his position at the wheel. “You came here willingly, and for now you’re of little to no use to me as a hostage. I suggest you enjoy your time aboard, however long that may be.”

A dismissal. She nodded and turned on her heel, slowly walking back to the hatch she came from.

So he truly didn’t have a plan for her, then. She couldn’t decide if that was a comfort or not. Since she was basically worthless, he may just dump her off at the next port and forget about her if she played her cards right.

She wound her way through the gun deck, aimlessly wandering through the neatly stacked crates of cannonballs.

It wouldn’t be such a bad thing. From there, she could find her way back to her kingdom and possibly rally a force to overthrow whatever tyrant had taken the throne. It would give her the time she needed to come up with the plans and funds she would need to make such a rebellion work. Maybe a stray naval unit would find her and help her in her quest.

But she couldn’t deny the mobility being aboard the Jolly Roger offered her. A decent amount of scheming might even help her to convince the captain to help her take her kingdom back. He had, after all, once been a military man himself.

No.  _ Don’t be a fool, Emma _ . She would have to do this on her own, with whatever cards she would be dealt in the next few days.

She didn’t know how long she had been wandering, lost in thought, but she wound up at a closed door, light streaming in from a closed hatch above her head. A simple wooden sign on the door read “Captain Jones” in neat script.

Three unanswered knocks told her it certainly hadn’t been an hour. Emma loosed a breath and lowered herself to the floor, allowing her thoughts to consume her.

Queen.

Part of her couldn’t believe her parents were gone. Refused to give up that hope. But another horribly rational part told her that it was time to face it. Her parents were dead. They were never coming back. No kiss, no curse could reverse that. All magic comes with a price, and that sort of magic demands a steep payment. She briefly wondered what that payment might be, if it would be worth it to risk her own life to get back her parents -

No, she couldn’t. Her gift had been light magic, and she would not darken her heart. She was the queen, and her people deserved a good leader.

But she knew, deep down, that rage and desperation had already begun to taint her heart.

She was queen, she had to do better. She couldn’t allow revenge to distract her, to corrupt her.

She was queen, and her people needed saving.

She was queen.

But she was queen of nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for killing Snow and Charming! <3
> 
> What do we think is going to happen? How do you guys feel about Johnny? Lots of history to unpack there ;)
> 
> Keep an eye out and subscribe if you want to know when I update the story! Also follow me on tumblr at veryverynotgoodwrites if you want more frequent updates and previews and teasers and all kinds of goodies!


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